


I Only Want Sympathy (in the form of you crawling into bed with me)

by FoxCollector



Category: Naruto
Genre: AU, Background HashiMito, Compression socks, Detective!Madara, Don't worry, Emotional Comfort, Hashirama is a rock, Hurt/Comfort, I guess that's obvious though, M/M, MadaTobi - Freeform, Madara is a trainwreck, Mutual Masturbation, There is also a cute dog, There is also also mentioned murder, Tobirama's short shorts, What does Tobirama even do?, but he's not there, i guess, it bothers Madara too, kind of, not an actual rock though, slight fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-01
Updated: 2017-08-01
Packaged: 2018-12-07 11:47:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11622882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FoxCollector/pseuds/FoxCollector
Summary: Usually Hashirama left a few lights on, so that he wouldn’t trip if he decided he wanted a midnight (or 3 AM) snack, but every single light was already off.This could mean one of three things: Number one – Hashirama was not home. Number two – Mito was over. If that was the case, Madara would be gone within ten seconds. Number three – Tobirama was over.In which Madara's night is a bit derailed, but no one seems to mind.





	I Only Want Sympathy (in the form of you crawling into bed with me)

**Author's Note:**

> So I wrote this instead of thinking about whether or not to put my other stories into a series, and how to end it if I did. 
> 
> I just needed a little break and some comfort! Title comes from Fall Out Boy's "Dance, Dance", because I can't stop with the annoying song titles in brackets right now. Don't hurt me.
> 
> Also, the murder in the story is inspired by a podcast, so extra cookies for anyone who recognizes it. Honestly, I made cookies. But no guarantee they would actually get to you, and if they did, well you might not want to eat them.
> 
> At any rate, I hope you enjoy this one too!
> 
> Read, enjoy, review!

            When Madara arrived at Hashirama’s house, it was, admittedly, late. The sun had already set and it was only through memory that Madara managed to slide the key in, tugging on the old door so the lock would actually work. There was no barking inside, so either the dog was upstairs, or had recognized the sound of the key in the lock. For such a dumb animal, Madara was always amazed that she could tell when someone was opening the door with a key.

            Inside the house, the lights were off. This was a bit surprising. It was only about 10:00, and Hashirama was rarely in bed before midnight. Still, he might have decided to watch TV in his room and not fall asleep on the couch and hurt his neck again.

            So Madara invited himself in. He toed off his shoes and looked around. The dog was definitely upstairs. She would be all over him otherwise. Using the light from his phone to avoid any dog toys, and his memory to avoid corners, he made his way through the living room and up the stairs.

            Sure, he could have turned on all the lights, but he didn’t. He didn’t need them anyway. It was a habit to leave things the way they were. Usually that meant not turning anything off, but this time…

            Something felt off.

            Usually Hashirama left at least a few lights on, so that he wouldn’t trip if he decided he wanted a midnight (or 3 AM) snack, but every single light was already off.

            This could mean one of three things: Number one – Hashirama was not home. Number two – Mito was over. If that was the case, Madara would be gone within ten seconds. Number three – Tobirama was over. At least if Tobirama was there, the bastard would stay in the guest room and avoid Madara as much he avoided him. That, he could deal with. He checked his messages again, and Hashirama still hadn’t responded. That wasn’t unusual, but he’d prefer to know what he was walking into, if possible. After the day he’d had, he was desperate enough to chance a Mito-sighting. Although, he was starting to think he should have checked the shoes by the door to see if he recognized any extra pairs…but he was already half way up the stairs, so he would know soon enough anyway.

            The dog poked her fluffy head around the corner, her one eye reflecting the light from his phone.

            “Oh, there you are,” Madara muttered, pausing to ruffle her ears. She looked up at him with what could only be described as a doofy grin. In that way, the dog reminded him of Hashirama. But the fact that she was white and fluffy reminded him unfortunately of Tobirama, who would never live down the fact that his winter coat had a white fur collar; a fact that Tobirama didn’t seem to mind at all, which in turn made Madara oddly annoyed.

            There was a light on at the end of the hall, filtering under the bathroom door, and the bathroom fan was running, which probably just meant that Hashirama had gone for a shower. Madara stuck his head into Hashirama’s bedroom and was relieved to see no sign of Mito, nor any of her things. So he flicked the light on and helped himself to a book from the bookshelf while he waited. Hashirama had obviously thought he’d have time for a shower before Madara arrived, but the man always took so ridiculously long that Madara wasn’t surprised he was still in the bathroom. Although he wasn’t one to talk. His own hair took way too much time to deal with. Sometimes he swore it had a mind of its own, it probably ate all his pens in his sleep and that’s why he could never find any around the house.

            He took care to hold the book up, just in case Hashirama had decided to forgo a towel, because he never wanted to see that again. He loved Hashirama, but sometimes the man had no decency. The dog followed him into the room and hopped up on the bed beside him, her weight dipping the mattress and slanting him sideways towards her as she flopped down on her belly.

            “You need exercise,” he told her. Although he was perfectly aware that the dog was not fat so much as massive, and was in fact Tobirama’s preferred running partner after Hashirama. Or probably before Hashirama, actually.

            The dog smiled at him again, crossing her stretched out paws in front of her. How cute.

            His cellphone chimed. He glanced down at it.

            Ah, so Hashirama had finally gotten his message. The response read ' _Dude, really?'_ And was followed by a crying face.

            Oh. What? Had he forgotten something? It wasn’t Hashirama’s birthday, was it? No, definitely not.

            Was Hashirama just being overly emotional in response to the fact that he himself had had a shitty day? Because that was not unusual… Nor was it too unusual for Hashirama to text while in the bathroom, a habit Madara found disturbing. People took their phones way too seriously.

            He fully intended to say this to Hashirama when the door opened a second later, except that it wasn’t Hashirama that stepped out.

            Oh, fuck.

            Well. At least it wasn’t Mito.

            The dog jumped off the bed with a thump and scratch of claws against hardwood and skidded to a halt in front of Tobirama.

            Tobirama, who was wearing short pajama shorts that might have just been boxers and an old T-shirt with a stretched-out neckline that dove for one of his shoulders. His hair was still wet, and when his gaze tracked from the dog up to Madara, his eyes narrowed.

            “You know, if Hashirama asks Mito to move in, they’re going to take your key away,” Tobirama said after a moment.

            “If,” Madara managed to say. He tried very hard to keep his eyes trained on the other man’s face.

            “When, more likely,” Tobirama said. He turned the bathroom light off, but left the fan on. With an absent-minded pat to the dog’s head, which made her collar jingle, he went to the guest room, his old room, and turned on the light.

            Madara slid off the bed, leaving his book lying at the foot of it and stood in the hallway awkwardly. This was not what he was expecting.

            “Did you forget something?” Tobirama asked.

            “No,” Madara said, a little too defensively.

            “Then what are you doing here?”

            “I _was_ looking for Hashirama,” said Madara. “You know, the guy that lives here.”

            “Uh huh, you were looking for Hashirama,” Tobirama said. He sounded like he was talking to a small child, waiting for him to catch on. “I’ll ask again. Did you forget something?”

            “…” Madara wanted so badly to have some kind of comeback. To put Tobirama in his place because he really hated that attitude, except he’d just remembered something.

            “He’s…out of town,” Madara said.

            “With Mito, yes. Honestly, I’m surprised you could forget, he hasn’t shut up about it all week. Although I suppose you simply didn’t listen,” Tobirama said. He grabbed something off the dresser and sat down on the bed.

            “I think I stopped after the first day. And like you actually bothered to listen,” Madara said with a scoff.

            Tobirama raised an eyebrow at him, then turned his attention to the thing he was rolling up his left calf. It was like a sock, except that it only spanned from his ankle to his knee and didn’t cover his foot.

            “What is that?” Madara asked. Honestly, he should have left already, but human contact, living, breathing human contact, even Tobirama, was reassuring.

            The image of the woman in the ditch popped into his head, unbidden, and his mind superimposed Tobirama onto her.

            Fuck.

            He hated, well, strongly disliked the man, but he’d never wish that on him. On anyone.

            Tobirama’s voice pulled him back.

            “Compression socks. Calf sleeves,” Tobirama said.

            “Oh. Why are you wearing them?” Madara pushed. Just keep him talking.

            “I run. Sometimes my calf muscles get tense and knot in the middle of the night. It’s not fun,” Tobirama said. He had pulled the right sock on and moved what appeared to be his laptop up a bit further on the bed.

            “Oh,” Madara said lamely. He was standing in the doorway to the room, the dog poking her head around his hip to eye Tobirama and see if she had permission to go in.

            The socks actually looked kind of neat. Sort of. In a sock way.

            “Did you actually want something? Do you usually come to visit my brother so late?” Tobirama asked. He sat down at the head of the bed, lifting one leg over the laptop and sitting so his spread legs framed the computer. He paused to grab his water bottle, and he tipped his head back as he drank.

            It looked positively obscene; made Madara imagine what he might look like naked, just like that.

            So what. He could dislike Tobirama and still find him attractive. He wasn’t blind. In fact, that was probably the thing he hated most about the other man: he was attractive, and insufferable, and Madara had been low-key lusting after him ever since Tobirama had turned 17 and really grown into himself.

            Hashirama liked to insist they’d get along if they actually bothered to talk, arguing didn’t count apparently, but Madara claimed he could never move past the fact that the other man had been his little brother’s self-proclaimed rival. Izuna had proclaimed it, that is.

            Or was. Izuna had gotten over it. Madara hadn’t. Probably because it gave him an excuse to keep Tobirama at arm’s length and avoid an awkward one-sided attraction.

            Madara was also pretty sure anyone would have found the sight arousing, not just him.

            Definitely not.

            He realized Tobirama had stopped and was looking at him, waiting for an answer. What was the question? Oh, yeah…If he was honest, he came over at least once a month, sometimes more. It felt like a lot sometimes. Hashirama should really be paid for his emotional labour.

            “Uh, no. Not usually,” Madara said.

            “So, why are you here then?” Tobirama asked.

            “I, uh…” How was he supposed to explain the things he’d seen on his job, and the way they stayed etched in his brain? How was he supposed to explain the fact that Hashirama was a solid rock that was always ready to listen when he needed, and distract him with stupid things like kitten pictures, and stories about his own work or boring stories about Tobirama or Mito or a Highwayman in a movie? There was no way he could just say that. He would never even say that to Hashirama, even if the big oaf knew it already.

            “Are you…” Tobirama started, and then paused.

            The silence between them was more awkward than an upside-down turtle in a dress.

            “You look awful,” Tobirama finally said.

            “Thanks,” Madara said flatly. “You look…” He stopped himself abruptly. He had no idea what was about to come out of his mouth, but the fact that his eyes had traced the line of Tobirama’s thigh to the edge of his just-covering-enough-shorts about three times told him it wouldn’t be good.

            Tobirama raised an eyebrow.

            “Stupid…” Madara finished.

            “Wow. And here I was, going to offer you a conversation in place of my brother out of the goodness of my heart,” Tobirama said.

            “Goodness. Right.” Madara snorted.

            “Come on,” Tobirama said suddenly.

            Madara was incredibly confused until the dog pushed past him and jumped up onto the bed, padding right up beside Tobirama to lick his face, tail going wild.

            “Good girl,” Tobirama all but cooed at her. He turned a flat expression towards Madara. “Well, sorry. Looks like the dog took your place.”

            “What?” Madara asked. “Dogs don’t even talk. I mean, what am I…what do you…What, do you want a compliment in exchange for a conversation? What the hell?”

            Tobirama fixed him with a look. He stood up, taking his laptop and setting it off on a bookshelf, and sat back down. The dog sat down next to him.

            “Everyone likes compliments,” Tobirama finally said.

            “What?” Madara asked.

            It wasn’t much of a consolation that Tobirama seemed just as confused as he was at the turn in the conversation. Madara had a weird feeling it was his own fault.

            Tobirama turned to the dog, kissed her on the head and told her to go to her own bed and she hopped off obediently and pushed past Madara, pausing to look dramatically back over one shoulder. When Tobirama only motioned her away, she put her head down and slinked off down the stairs.

            She was definitely Hashirama’s dog.

            “There,” Tobirama said.

            “You look good in those,” Madara blurted. He could feel his face turn red, and the slightly shocked look on Tobirama’s face was almost worth the embarrassment.

            “I’m sorry?” Tobirama responded.

            “Don’t be,” Madara said, trying for a smooth recovery.

            “That’s not what…nevermind,” Tobirama said. Then after a moment, “in what? Out of curiosity, the compression socks?”

            Madara could have face-palmed. “The shorts, you idiot.”

            “Oh,” Tobirama said thoughtfully. “Well. Thank you, I suppose.”

            “Yeah.”

            “Well, I guess you earned a conversation.”

            “What, are you some kind of a talk-hooker?” Madara asked, and it was the dumbest thing he’d said all day, all year probably.

            Tobirama’s expression said he was thinking the same thing.

            “Uh, nevermind, What makes you think I wanna talk to you?”

            “You’re still here,” Tobirama said with a shrug. It made the old T-shirt slide just slightly off his right shoulder.

            “Fair point. I doubt it’ll be anything you want to hear though.”

            “Try me. I hardly think you came over to complain about me at this hour. I assume it’s work related?”

            “Shitty day. Shitty case,” Madara said. He found himself sitting at the foot of the bed anyway.

            “Elaborate,” Tobirama all but commanded.

            “Can’t. Not much, anyway. Ongoing investigation,” Madara said.

            Tobirama didn’t say anything, just waited.

            “Not much to say anyway. Can’t even really tell who the woman is. Was. Her face is…” Madara said. The words came out haltingly at first, but gradually it became easier. It usually did. “I mean, we have a pretty good idea who she is, but we can’t be sure until we get dental or fingerprints. But fuck, who would do that to a kid? Not a kid, really, but she was so damn young. And she was still in her dress? She never even made it home. Who the hell could do that to another human being? Her face was... _upside down_. And then they just throw her in a ditch like she’s garbage? _They’re_ garbage. And when I get my hands on whoever did that, I swear to god I'm going to… But her _face_ …Fuck…” He trailed off. His chest felt lighter. His mind clearer.

            Apparently Tobirama could listen as well as his brother. Although Madara supposed that made sense since he often had to listen _to_ his brother.

            Tobirama still hadn’t said anything. The expression on his face was unreadable. Madara thought maybe he looked upset? Concerned? He really couldn’t guess.

            “Well?” Madara prompted.

            “I don’t know what to say,” Tobirama admitted. It would have been a win in any other circumstance.

            “This is usually when Hashirama breaks out the cat pictures,” Madara told him.

            “Oh,” Tobirama said. He took a deep breath. “I don’t have cat pictures.”

            “Probably you do, you just don’t open all your emails from Hashirama.”

            “Fair point. Do you…want…cat pictures?” Tobirama asked, and it probably wasn’t what he’d intended to say at all.

            “I want anything that will take that image away. Even for a moment,” Madara admitted.

            Tobirama was silent.

            “Are you really surprised? You know what I do for a living, right? Working Homicide is not pretty,” Madara said. He was starting to get annoyed at the lack of response.

            “No, I’m not, I just didn’t think you…”

            “You didn’t think I cared?” Madara asked. It wasn’t his fault if he sounded a bit bitter.

            “No, I just…I didn’t know you took it so personally,” Tobirama said. “That’s not quite right. I guess I thought you had a different…coping mechanism? I mean, it’s good, that you take it so seriously. But I imagine it takes a toll on you, then.” His words didn’t seem to come out right, and he looked frustrated.

            “If you mean it makes me imagine all the people I love dead, then yeah, pretty much. It takes a toll,” Madara said.

            “What can I do?” Tobirama asked. “I don’t have cat pictures.”

            “Anything. Talk about your work, call the dog back in, take off your shorts, turn on your computer and find cat pictures, I don’t care. As long as it distracts me,” Madara said.

            “Take off my…”

            “Anything,” Madara repeated.

            Tobirama stared at him for a good moment, he seemed to be debating something.

            Madara was almost starting to feel self-conscious.

            Tobirama seemed to come to a decision. “Close the door,” he said, then pulled his old shirt up over his head and tossed it into the corner.

            Madara had the door closed and was back on the end of the bed before he’d fully processed it.

            He watched as Tobirama hooked his fingers into the elastic band of his shorts. Tobirama glanced up at him, and whatever he saw in Madara’s face assured him to keep going. He slid his shorts off, down over long pale legs with black calf sleeves, and tossed them in the general direction of where he’d thrown his shirt.

            Madara’s eyebrow went up as his eyes all but devoured every inch of skin on display; lean muscled thighs, a tight stomach, pert nipples and a slender cock. Tobirama hadn’t been wearing anything under his shorts, and the sight was thrilling. It felt like he was seeing something forbidden. Which was stupid, because they were adults and it wasn’t forbidden, they could do whatever they wanted and didn’t need to worry about some kind of punishment.

            Unless Hashirama found out. Then Madara might have to fear punishment.

            Tobirama reached for one of his compression socks, to strip it off and Madara spoke up, surprising himself.

            “Leave them,” he said.

            Of all the things to embarrass Tobirama, it was apparently that, if the light dusting of red across pale cheekbones was any indication. He slid his hands up to his bent knees, leaning back to make a display of himself.

            It made Madara’s breath go out in a wheeze.

            “Is that all?” Tobirama asked. And the tone suggested it was nothing. Like he might put himself on display for anybody having a bad day.

            It made jealousy twinge in Madara’s stomach. He reached out a hand, pausing short of contact. Tobirama’s breath hitched, gaze fixed on his hand. He hesitated, briefly caught on all the things he hated about Tobirama, including the fact that he hated how much he wanted him sometimes. There was also the thought that maybe Tobirama wouldn’t want him to touch. Maybe it was a display for his eyes only. Only one way to find out.

            “Can I?” he asked, hoping it would convey everything he wanted it to.

            It seemed to work well enough. “Please do,” Tobirama said, breathlessly.

            He reached out the rest of the way, moving closer as his hand landed on Tobirama’s knee and Tobirama responded by leaning back to brace himself on his hands, allowing Madara unrestricted access.

            Madara trailed his hand first down over Tobirama’s leg, over the stupid compression sock, then back up to his knee and down the other way, gliding down Tobirama’s thigh. He slid his hand up Tobirama’s hip, eyes fixed on the way his skin looked against Tobirama’s pale skin. He brought his other hand up, trailing it up Tobirama’s chest, skimming over a nipple, which made Tobirama shudder slightly. He slid his hand all the way to Tobirama’s throat.

            Tobirama tipped his head back slightly, his throat on display as Madara wrapped his hand around it lightly.

            “Tell me this is for me,” he said. It came out a bit differently than he wanted it to. He wanted to somehow say that he hoped Tobirama didn’t let random people take advantage of him, which really seemed unlikely anyway, but instead it came out sounding possessive.

            Tobirama barely hesitated. “It’s for you. Whatever you want.”

            Madara frowned. “What do you want?”

            “Just for you to touch me,” Tobirama said.

            “You’re not turned on by murder, are you?” Madara asked, just to cover all his bases.

            Tobirama looked insulted. “I’m turned on by your dedication. And you. Mostly you.”

            “By me? Hell, why hasn’t this happened already then?” Madara asked. He was a bit shocked and more than a little gratified to hear he apparently turned Tobirama on.

            “Because you’re insufferable. And nothing has happened yet, nor will it happen if you don’t actually do something,” Tobirama said.

            Madara tilted Tobirama’s head back a bit further, he had the sudden desire to kiss the other man but held off for the moment. He moved forward, between the invitation of Tobirama’s legs.

            His suit pants were starting to feel a little tight.

            The hand resting on Tobirama’s hip moved up, over Tobirama’s chest, feeling muscles shift under smooth skin. He traced around a nipple, watching Tobirama’s face. Tobirama held eye contact even as Madara felt his breathing stutter in his throat. He leaned in slowly and dragged his mouth along Tobirama’s jaw, pausing next to his lips. Tobirama turned slightly, just enough to invite Madara to kiss him. So he sealed their lips together.

            It was hot, and Madara felt light-headed from the contact. He groaned softly and Tobirama reached up to pull him in closer, opening his mouth to deepen the kiss and inviting Madara’s tongue inside. He tasted clean, and safe and it made Madara growl into his open mouth. He moved the hand that been toying with one nipple down, tracing along Tobirama’s hip joint lightly, so close to where he knew Tobirama really wanted him to touch, and yet not close enough by far.

            Tobirama broke the kiss first, bracing on one arm to lean back and look at Madara.

            “What?” Madara asked.

            “Nothing,” Tobirama said. “You’re just wearing too much.”

            Madara snorted and sat back to unbutton his shirt, Tobirama followed him, leaning forward to press a kiss to his lips. It was softer than Madara was expecting and he suddenly felt dirty, like he was using Tobirama. His hands slipped on his buttons and Tobirama took over, head bent as he focused on ridding Madara of his shirt. When they finally pushed his shirt off, Tobirama pulled him down so they were lying on the bed pressed chest to chest, with Madara framed between Tobirama’s parted legs. Tobirama groaned at the full-body contact, back arching slightly, and he was definitely hard now. It was probably the hottest thing ever, Madara decided.

            He felt as though his pants were strangling him, or maybe Tobirama was trying to kill him with arousal. He had to prop himself up so he could actually get at his belt, and Tobirama clung to him for a second before dropping back against the bed. Madara reached down, hands grazing Tobirama’s chest as they went to his belt, clicking it open and then moving for the button on his dress pants.

            Tobirama was bent so he could watch Madara’s hands as they opened too-tight-dress-pants and slid them and his boxers down just enough to free his own straining erection. Madara paused.

            “Is this okay?” he asked.

            Tobirama fixed him with a look. “If it wasn’t okay, you would be dead now.”

            Madara made a noise in protest, he’d like to think Tobirama wouldn’t kill him, but he could already imagine the other man fixing his thighs around his throat. Well, at least he’d die happy.

            “Speaking of, if you don’t keep going…” Tobirama said.

            Madara got the message and leaned in, rubbing their bodies together and revelling in the contact.

            Tobirama threw one leg around his waist, the other braced against the bed and pressing tight against Madara’s hip. He was surrounded by Tobirama and it was intoxicating. He reached down between them to grip their cocks together and rub them both at the same time. Tobirama squeezed his eyes shut, jaw clenched and Madara drank in the sight of him like he was drowning. He rubbed his thumb over the head of Tobirama’s cock and thrilled at the choked off moan it got out of the other man, so he did it again. A shudder ran through Tobirama’s thighs pressed against him. One hand dug nails into Madara’s back and the other moved to grip their cocks over Madara’s hand, moving Madara’s hand down and then back up with a twist. It made Madara weak in the knees.

            He bowed his head and pressed a hot kiss to the base of Tobirama’s neck, then at the hollow of his collarbone.

            His pants were stuck to his legs and he regretted not pulling them off all the way, but there was no way he was stopping now. Both of them were leaking pre-come and the slick of it made the slide of their cocks even more delicious.

            “Fuck,” Madara grunted.

            “Eloquent,” Tobirama breathed.

            Madara got back at him by adding a slight twist at the head of his cock and felt Tobirama’s heel dig into his back in response.

            It was Tobirama’s turn to stumble over his words. “God, just-”

            “Just what?” Madara prompted, although he could barely get the words out.

             “Do that again,” Tobirama said.

            So Madara did, enjoying the way Tobirama’s thighs squeezed around him in response. All he could see was Tobirama; he was all Madara could feel and all he could taste and all he could think about, he was everywhere, and thank fuck for that. He’d be happy if he never saw anything else.

            Sweat slicked their chests together as they moved their hands faster. Madara could feel that he was getting close, hadn’t realized how much he’d needed it, and he was pretty sure he wouldn’t last much longer. He wasn’t sure how close Tobirama was though. He had a hard enough time reading the man’s body language in any other situation, and this was so completely new he had even less to go on.

            He moved his hand on top of Tobirama’s over their arousals, tightening the other man’s grip before he trailed his fingers down, rubbing over balls and down past sensitive skin to trace over Tobirama’s hole and the reaction was instant, Tobirama jerked up against him, breath coming out in a gasp. He evidently hadn’t been expecting that.

            “Want me to stop?” Madara asked, pulling his fingers away for a moment.

            “…No,” Tobirama said, seemingly a little embarrassed about his initial reaction.

            “Just say the word,” Madara said, his voice came out rough when Tobirama shifted against him and sped up his hand. He really wasn’t going to last much longer.

            He wasn’t sure exactly what Tobirama was okay with, touching at least, and it wasn’t like he had any lube, so he did what he could and rubbed a finger roughly over Tobirama’s hole again, and then pressed his thumb against the skin, just edging towards pushing in.

            Tobirama let out something that sounded like a choked off cry, his hand sliding over both of them, and Madara bit at the side of his neck, trying to keep his own orgasm at bay for just a second longer. He tested the limits, pushed one finger gently, just breaching inside Tobirama and the man froze, tension shaking through his body. For a second Madara thought maybe he’d done something wrong, and he slid his finger out, ready to apologize, but then Tobirama’s hand twisted and he came apart beneath Madara, painting their chests and his own hand with his come. The feeling finally pushed Madara over the edge he was barely clinging to and his own orgasm crashed through him, making a bigger mess.

            He stayed slumped against Tobirama for what seemed like a long time, he felt a bit like he was stuck anyway, with the sticky mess between them and Tobirama’s leg still around him.

            Finally, Tobirama drew his leg back and huffed. “You’re kind of heavy.”

            “It’s all muscle,” Madara informed him, his words muffled against Tobirama’s throat.

            “Right, like you don’t hit the donuts with the other guys,” Tobirama said into his hair.

            “Can’t turn down donuts, it’s rude,” Madara said. He pushed himself up enough to allow Tobirama to remove his hand from between them. He watched Tobirama’s face, smirking when the younger man flushed at the way his hand looked painted in come and the way their chests stuck together.

            “I just showered too,” Tobirama complained.

            “Take another one,” Madara said. “I’ll help.” Then an uneasiness settled in his stomach. What if this was supposed to be a one-time thing? Was it? They should have definitely talked about this beforehand.

            “I highly doubt I’d get any cleaner,” Tobirama said flatly.

            At least he was making jokes. But still. How was Madara supposed to say he wanted it to happen again? There was no way he’d just come out and say it.

            “You know, that was way better than cat pictures,” Madara said, testing the water. He was still sort of hovering over Tobirama, between his splayed-out legs.

            “Of course it was,” Tobirama said. He sounded self-assured, but his face was roughly as expressionless as usual, even as he wiped his hand against his own chest just to try and move all the mess to one place.

            Madara doubted that would make things any easier to clean.

            He deliberated for a moment, trying to figure out how to ask what he wanted to, without it being obvious. There was no way he wanted to blow this opportunity. “You didn’t exactly come away empty handed either.”

            Tobirama looked at him as though he’d made an exceptionally bad joke. When Madara only blinked in response, he sighed. “No, I suppose not. Are you going to let me get up?”

            “No,” Madara said bluntly.

            “Ah, so you want to have the important conversation now,” Tobirama said. “Alright then, say your piece.”

            He waited while Madara sputtered.

            “Here’s the thing,” Madara finally got out. “I don’t just sleep with random people. It’s got to go somewhere. I should have said that before.”

            Tobirama tipped his head to one side. “I don’t exactly offer myself up to just anyone.”

            “Well, that’s good because I was a bit concerned,” Madara said.

            Tobirama fixed him with a sour look. “That being said, I don’t really want this to be a thing only when you need it.”

            “You wanna be able to come to me. I can do that,” Madara said.

            “And it doesn’t have to be just a sex thing.”

            “So you want a relationship.” It was more than he’d been hoping for, really.

            “If you want to call it that,” Tobirama said, turning away slightly, his nose up in the air.

            “You want me to take you out to dinner,” Madara teased.

            “And be seen in public with you? Perish the thought,” Tobirama said, then paused thoughtfully. “I suppose we’d have to tell Hashirama.”

            “Ugh, no,” Madara said.

            “Are you worried he’ll kill you for touching me? I might be able to plead your case down to grievous bodily harm if you’re good to me,” Tobirama said a shrug.

            “Oh god,” Madara said, horrified. “I hadn’t thought of that. I was thinking he’d be all sappy and romantic on us.”

            “Oh, he would be, until he realized we’d probably had sex. Then he’d skin you.” Tobirama sounded delighted.

            “We should just go into hiding,” Madara said.

            “Don’t be ridiculous. Besides, you might get lucky. It might never occur to him,” Tobirama said.

            “Fat chance,” Madara said, deflating. Then he perked up. “Speaking of, if there’s gonna be a next time, I wasn’t really sure, but that thing I did, with my fingers, when I –”

            “Oh, that,” Tobirama cut him off. “What about it?”

            “Well, I mean, did you like it? Were you okay with it?”

            Tobirama looked a shade pinker than usual. “It was fine.”

            Good. He hated the thought that he’d gone too far in any way. He was pretty sure his relief was visible. “So, I could do it again?” He prompted.

            “Yes,” Tobirama said after a moment.

            “I don’t have to, I won’t do anything you aren’t comfortable with.” He couldn’t tell if that was the right thing to say, or the exact wrong thing, because Tobirama was more than a bit red.

            “No, really it’s fine,” he said, then in a smaller voice: “I liked it.”

            “Great! Because I can also use my-” Madara was elbowed in the face as Tobirama pushed him off and sat up, hands moving to tug off his compression socks so he could go for another shower.

            “Ouch.” Madara complained.

            “You’re fine,” Tobirama said. He tossed his socks back on the bed and moved to the door.

            Madara took the opportunity to enjoy the view, kicking his pants off and folding them roughly, prepared to wait for his turn in the shower. Thank god he hadn’t brought his gun in, he mused.

            Tobirama opened the door, then paused to look at Madara over his shoulder. “Well?”

            “Well, what?” Where had he left his cell phone? Was it still in Hashirama’s room?

            “Are you going to join me?” Tobirama asked.

            Madara was up in an instant, all thoughts of his cell phone gone. He pressed himself against Tobirama’s back, hands on his hips, before the other man had even fully opened the door.

            “Don’t have to ask me twice,” Madara said.

            “Except I did.”

            “First time doesn’t count,” Madara insisted. He pressed a kiss to Tobirama’s neck.

            “You’re…really cuddly,” Tobirama said. He might have sounded annoyed. Or simply long-suffering.

            “Does it bother you?” Madara tucked his face alongside Tobirama’s head and inhaled his scent.

            “I suppose not. The mess is bothering me though.”

            Madara snorted, pushing Tobirama through the door and into the bathroom. The shower was brief, and despite what Madara might have wanted, neither of them were up for a round two at the time. They crawled into Tobirama’s bed, and Tobirama allowed Madara to hold him. That night, Madara didn’t dream of anything.

                                                                                                                      *~*~*~*~*~*~*

            Tobirama awoke not to his alarm, but to the telltale vibration of a text-message.

            He had absolutely no doubt that it was Hashirama. He supposed his brother wasn’t really aware of the time difference. Not that it mattered. He was up now.

            He shifted in Madara’s arms enough to grab his cell phone and opened the message.

            Sure enough it was Hashirama.

            ' _Hey, so Mito took my phone away and I’m sorry I didn’t text earlier, but did Madara come over?'_

            Tobirama wasn’t even surprised. Hashirama could get glued to his phone like no one’s business. He tapped out a quick ‘ _Yes, he did.’_ And sent it.

            The response came a moment later.

            ‘ _Is everything okay? I really should have said something, but I didn’t think anything would happen. Sometimes he just needs to talk, and see happy things.’_

Tobirama snorted, and typed ‘ _Like cat pictures?’_

_‘Yes! Kittens are better. Did you talk? You didn’t send him away did you?_ _☹_ _’_

There was no way he was going to break any news over text message, so he kept it vague. _‘No, I didn’t send him away. He’s fine.’_

_'Yay! :)'_ was Hashirama’s response.

            Tobirama set his phone down and turned back to snuggle into the warmth offered by Madara’s body. He still had a few minutes before his alarm went off.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not sure I'm happy with this, but I hope you at least enjoyed it. It gives me life to make people happy.


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